Afterbirth
by Moontyger
Summary: The road to self-acceptance begins with a single step.


The sun woke him, as it so frequently did. Sometimes they were on the road before, but not often. That was all right. Hakkai was the only early riser among them and he valued this time alone, the silence before the others were awake and they were on the road, endless arguing in the back and Sanzo complaining next to him.

But something was different this time. He lay there, still and silent, and tried to figure out what it was. An unfamiliar bed in a generic inn room, but that was only to be expected. Gojyo beside him, scarlet hair covering the pillow like freshly spilled blood, and a snore proclaiming him only too alive escaping his lips; that was normal, too.

No, what was different was that it was all too clear, the edges a little too sharp, sensations nearly painful in their intensity. With no effort at all, he could smell Sanzo in the next room, mingled scents of cigarettes and gun oil, and the scent of the detergent used to clean the sheets in both rooms was strong enough to drown in. Hakkai knew, then. He looked at his hand, flexed the claws he wasn't even surprised to see, stared at dark green vines on his skin, glistening almost wetly in the early morning sunlight.

Fools, the both of them. Idiots who could have gotten everyone killed. He rolled over and found the limiters right away, on the table beside the bed where Gojyo'd put them when he pulled them off last night. Only what he might expect from Gojyo, but he wondered when he'd become so stupid. They were lucky no one had noticed, lucky nothing more had happened. Lucky he hadn't gone mad and tried to eat anyone. He was often lucky, but that didn't mean they should count on it.

He should have known better from the start. He'd at least been suspicious when Gojyo left the bar unusually early, vanishing up the stairs to their room scarcely an hour after they'd eaten. He wasn't sick; Hakkai would have felt it, felt the disturbance in his chi even without touching him. But he'd been concerned all the same and followed not long after. It would be all right; it wasn't as though he didn't trust the other two to look after themselves.

But he'd still been surprised when he'd opened the door and found Gojyo there with a cupcake he'd gotten somewhere and a smile. "Happy birthday, Hakkai!"

"But it's not -" he'd started to protest, then stopped himself when he realized. It wasn't his birthday, at least not the day Cho Gonou had been born. But it was the anniversary of the day he'd started his new life as Cho Hakkai, when he'd been born anew in blood and pain and sin just like any other birth. So he smiled, only a little sadness clinging to the edges of the expression, and said instead, "I didn't expect you to remember."

After that, he supposed it was inevitable. He should have seen it, should have turned around and left, should have pushed Gojyo's hand away when he felt it on his ear, removing cuffs one by one. It was enough that they were celebrating something he still wasn't certain he should be glad of; did he have to face the truth of that, the realization of just who and what the Cho Hakkai who'd been born on that day really was?

But Gojyo'd meant well, his expression so intent as he stared into youkai eyes before forcibly turning Hakkai to face the mirror. And what could he say, faced with that? After all, he could put the limiters back on, hide what he'd become beneath a familiar mask. Gojyo couldn't do that; he had to stare the truth of his existence in the eye every single day, no way to cover it up and pass as simply human.

Knowing that, Hakkai hadn't fought him. He'd stared in the mirror at the thing he hated most and hadn't turned away, even if his stomach twisted in nausea and it took all his considerable strength of will to look at it head on. His smile wavered, but never failed him completely. After all, he wasn't alone; he had someone else to think of.

He had left them off, been the youkai he had never allowed himself to be (and never wanted to be), and nothing bad had happened. He hadn't gone mad, no one had been injured. The inn was undamaged and no mob cried for his blood. It had been all right. Foolish, far too much so, but all right just the same.

Hakkai put the limiters back on, felt claws retract and skin smooth, unmarked and unremarkable. He smiled, mask back in place. It was a beautiful morning.


End file.
